


Blacklist Boy

by Sharku



Category: Need for Speed (Video Games)
Genre: Car Porn, Cars, Explict, M/M, Oneshot, Sorry Not Sorry, The Blacklist - Freeform, blacklist - Freeform, blacklist boy, blowjob, car blowjob, nfs, nfs 2005, oneshot mostly, ps2 game, quickread, razor / player, so not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1907961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharku/pseuds/Sharku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He lived a street racing life. And then along came Razor, sabotaging his car, forcing him to lose,and he took his car.<br/>Climbing the blacklist, Razor found a weak point. It was that easy to get him in the backseat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blacklist Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I AM SO NOT SORRY 
> 
> I am in love with the ps2's version of NFS most wanted. That game beats me hands down.  
> An idea came to me when I got the text from Razor while playing, and here I am, loving this  
> story even though no ones gonna read it c:
> 
> Alright,so,enjoy~
> 
> Aghh also its kind of short i dunno I have a few pages more to it,but idk if I'll post it~

"Maybe I should call you sweetheart now, huh? Glad to see you're a sucker for punishment, though. And by the way... _thanks for the ride."_  
  
It went through his head like a painful hit of a police cop. Fuck him, fuck Razor and his blacklist. He knew clearly that Razor sabotaged his ride during the race, but with no proof and the car being his now made the situation worse.  
  
And he wanted to get back at Razor; beat him at his own little game of the most wanted. Those sweet fifteen mil and Razor in jail sound just perfect.  
  
With a black Ford Mustang, he was the best around. And no, he called bullshit on that; leaning on his recently won black Toyota Supra, his favorite car besides his BMW. Fuck, he really did miss that car. Razor probably tuned it enough to withstand any car, and especially his supra.   
  
He thought to himself, damn, what a fucking waste. He took his phone out, sliding the unlock screen, already seeing a message from Mia. Another one, mentioning a night race tonight. Texting back, he glanced up at the sound of a harsh engine, seeing an unfamiliar blue Audi s76, but it had a familiar driver. The car drove right at the sand, stopping right in front of him, getting dust on his supra's front.  
  
"Ej, _blacklist boy,_ " The woman said, climbing out of her car with a probably very pissed off expression, "You better have a very good fuckin’ explanation on why my car's impounded"  He only glanced at her, standing there in her black pants and white t-shirt, her black hair covering her shoulders. Izzy, was it? A while back.  
"You lost the race, I needed money, I repainted the car, changed it and sold it." Explaining, he glanced at the car behind her. Pretty basic wheels she has now, being on number 12.  
"You fucking sold it to the impound?! Can you really be that stupid?!" She yelled, her voice so annoying on his ears.   
  
"Who cares who I sold it to"  
  
"It fucking does if you sell a car to _the impound._ They scratch racer cars piece by piece and those parts go to Razor."  _What?_ He shook his head, is she bullshiting him? _Razor?_ Well, it'd explain why the police isn't chasing him that quickly; he must have friends at the station.  
"So? Those parts were kind of shit, if Razor gets them, I imagine he's not going to do much unless he's selling off old cars." He said, watching her cross her arms, staring right back.  
  
"Don't you fucking see it?" Izzy asked, sighting, "He's rolling in money. He gets the best parts. _You'll_ _never. Fucking. Beat him "_  
  
"Trust me, I will." Determined, he still was sure about defeating him. Izzy only laughed, laughed hard, for a good minute, then stopped, leaning against her blue Audi, "How _naive,_ " she said, "Your supra couldn't stand ten minutes against his mustang."  
"Save it, sister." He grinded his teeth, watching her sit on the front seat, glancing through the glass at him.  
"Hey, guess Razor's right, _pretty boy."_  She smirked at him, _"You're his sweetheart bitch now."_  
Cunt, he cursed as Izzy drove away.   
  
He really wished that he could drive Razor's car right onto his skull and then set them both on fire in a pool of car fuel.  
  
He opened the car door, climbing in. The seat was really comfortable, black leather, although the windows always have to be down when it's hot. The one thing his super car doesn't have it's the ac. It fried some time ago, and it slipped his mind to repair it.   
  
Turning on the police radio, he heard minor reports. He could hear the callback announcing the recent street race he was in, with Big Lou, the race near the beach. The same one, describing the two cars. Right now, his black supra, and Lou's Mitsubishi Eclipse that now belonged to pretty boy. He still has it, hidden in his shop, where the cops couldn't find it. The only two people who know are Rog and Mia. That's it, Rog couldn't rat him out, and Mia's on his side from race one.  
  
And Izzy's car? It's stored. She doesn't know what she's talking about. Why would she warn him about Razor, anyway? She's a downtown racer, sure, he admitted, she knows her cars and ways around the police, but why the sudden outburst? Her car was good, but his supra beat it, and she did look pissed after, but only laughed, handing him the keys. It doesn't make sense.  
  
Sighting, he got tired of trying to brain it, turning the car on. Better not stand in one place too long.  
  
Gear 1, 2, speeding up slowly, he passed the clear asphalt, the only sound being his engine. What a breeze, the wind was cold, and the streets barely had any people today.  
  
Passing the usual route, he stopped right in front of his garage. This looked like your average, boring, normal garage, but it was actually two times bigger than it seemed. Storing cars and changing plates, repainting the cars was the easy job. And getting legal license plates. Easy.  
  
He got out of the supra, his eyes staring at his phone. A call...number blocked.  
  
He answered.  
"Hey there, _sweetheart"_ Razor's voice, like an instant turn on for wanting to punch him in the face. "It's your old pal, Razor. Did you miss me? Heard you rode to the top just to see me."  
  
Frowning, he didn't find words.  
  
"I guess Baron's out. But that doesn't mean anything now ,since I got Izzy's parts, huh? Guess you do need all the help you can get from Mia. Anyhow, thanks so much for the ride. Now it's sparkling new." Razor hung up, as he had the sudden urge to fist the wall.   
  
 _Damn him and his stupid remarks._  
  
When he wins over Razor's car he's going to smash it into a million bits and make sure it stays like that.  
  
He glanced at the chalkboard, seeing all the rivals… and at number one, staring right back at him, "Razor". Or his real name-Clarence Callahan. Not the usual surname you'd hear around, mostly because he's better known as Razor now.  
  
Damn.   
  
He turned the light off, walking out the garage. The lock although looked and was simple, he still didn't buy a new one. Always saving for better parts, obviously, for the car. Although Rog always provided the nitro charge.  
  
He lifted his head to the exit, but for his surprise, two men were standing there. They looked too suspicious.  
  
 _Shit._ They noticed him.  
  
He started walking backwards, hoping for a back entrance, as the two in front of him started to chase him.   
  
 _Shit, the cars!_  
  
He hit something, turning around, the sound of an engine in the background, and him-the man, right in front of him, a black tee, same pants and sneaks even. Razor.  
"Hey sweetheart, where are you running off too?" His voice was clear, eyes almost mockingly staring back at his.   
"Damnit." He cursed, taking a few steps back. He could see Razor's mustang behind the two others that were chasing him, purring, polished, and that expensive smell of pain covering the car. And his signature, his flames. It's the real deal.  
  
"Let's go for a ride," Right against his ear, sending a disgusted shiver down his spine, "Blacklist boy."  
A snap to his wrist a metal sound, he already knew those were handcuffs.  
"Now you get into my car or I'll make sure the cops find your little garage"  
He clenched a fist, ready to hit him right in the face and break that motherfucking jaw and make him shut up. Only for the gun pointing at his back, it made the situation dangerous. But hell, it didn’t hurt to try.  
  
He grabbed Razor’s wrist, his fist clenched strong and coming right at his face. But it barely scratched him, Razor glanced at him, grinning. “You wanna fight?”  
  
Razor hit him right back, a direct hit to his jaw, causing him to fall back.  He cracked his lip, as he touched it, glancing at his slightly bloody fingers, then right back up at Razor’s satisfied smirk.  
  
He didn't say anything, standing up and walking to the car. Razor, looking cautious, pushed him hard against the car door. His palm was pushing his neck so he wouldn't get up, and cuffed the other wrist with the same handcuffs.  
  
 _Bastard._    
  
"Be a good boy and don't damage the car, would you?" He pulled him away by his wrist, opening the door, and pushing him in.   
  
 _Fuck._ He tried moving his hands, but the handcuffs were too tight. The only thing to do now is either kick him and open the door with his tied hands, or obey him. And it sure as fuck won't be number two.   
  
He sat up, glancing immediately at Razor sitting in the driver seat as he closed the door, ruffling his short hair slightly. Then, as if he couldn't be more of an asshole, turned to him.  
  
"Comfortable, sweetheart?"   
  
 _Yeah. Fucking very._ He threw a glare, not saying a word.   
This is going to be a long ride.  
  
...though his ride. A mustang that he only saw from the side, and now, he's sitting at the front. Everything uncovered. Razor didn't even cover what nitro pack he was using; he could see the numbers clearly.  
  
Where'd he get illegal nitrous?   
  
His car was very fast. Not the shit "very fast", but he could go over 250 per hour. And that's not all this car could do. With the nitro, even with expert handling suspensions, his car would be uncontrollable, running either in a straight line. This just...gives him the victory.  
  
This car. Though illegal, he has to admit it himself-is one of the best. Possibly even the best.   
  
Of course, being blacklist no.1 he did get the perks. And going unnoticed by the police must really prove what shitty cops they have in this country.   
  
He was lost in his head with examining the car, he completely forgot about the jackass sitting next to him.   
How much time passed? Through the window it got dark, evening fell. And he got pissed asking him, "What do you want from me?"   
  
He chuckled, answering, "Here would do."   
  
He glanced through the window again, seeing a highway, an _empty_ highway. The road going on for miles probably, covered by a dark forest and fields of grass. Where the fuck is this? Weren't they just in the city a moment ago?   
  
Razor turned the engine off, turning his head back at him. He lifted his hand up, slowly; he could see the tattoos on him more clearly. Wait, what the hell was that? He did not just think those tattoos actually look good on him. They _don't._  
  
"Mia was so nice to tell us where you were." Razor's grin made him flinch in anger, "She's a very persistent girl, but _so easy_ to crack open." He grabbed the back of his head so suddenly, he groaned in pain.  
 _What the hell? Mia?_ She was always on blacklist boy's side, why would she tell _Razor_ about his garage?!  
  
"She wouldn't!"  
"Oh trust me, she actually screamed every detail out." He grasped harder, chuckling. The nails digging into his skull wasn't pleasant, the orange and yellow glow of the customized gears and mp3 player dyed their faces.   
  
"Fuck you."   
  
"You better behave with me, sweetheart. The race is still on." What does he mean by that fucking _'the race is still on'_ bullshit? "But you don't want the cops to accidentally get your new Toyota, huh?"   
  
Shit. He has his supra now. He could set the garage on fire with those cars.  
He stayed silent, feeling his lower lip bleed from the punch earlier.  
  
"That's what I thought." Razor was clearly satisfied with his silence, but it made him believe there was something more than that threat.  
  
"Now," With just a blink, he got pulled down by his neck. To his _crotch,_ unzipped jeans. The last place he'd think. "If you bite me, I'll make sure to shoot you in the balls first, _sweetheart"_  
  
He flinched, staring right at Razor's light green underwear.   
  
 _"What the fuck?!"_ He yelled, trying to move his head back, but Razor had a strong grip on him now. "Let me go!"  
  
"I didn't give you an option here." He pulled him back, _"Suck."_  
  
Pushing him that hard, he felt his neck hurt, almost like it was about to snap.  
He's stuck now. There's no way around this, not with his hands tied and Razor forcing him.   
A simple _'this is very very fucked up'_ ran through his mind, before he opened his mouth just slightly. Razor's other hand, his left hand, slid into his own boxers, revealing his whole length. Fuck, he gulped, this is too fucked up.   
"Hurry up, _sweetheart."_ He heard him.   
  
Slowly, he opened his mouth, taking the tip in. Just a light reaction, but the taste was bitter. He took it more into his mouth, confused on what to do. Razor's hand gripped tighter, pulling his head back. _"Properly."_  
 _Properly?!_ That's the first thing you say to a guy giving his first blowjob?

  
He moved his head back, then on again. Slowly, his confused tongue licked and slowly snaked around, trying to make him cum faster.   
  
As bad as the situation is, he wanted to end it.  
  
"Good, just like that..." Razor's voice, in a low, aroused tone. He never heard him like this, what a strange feeling.

  
 _Focus._  
  
He licked the tip, feeling him hard. Clumsy as he was, taking his cock deeper into his throat made him choke. Just lightly, once.   
  
He could taste Razor's pre-cum in his mouth, a bitter, salt taste, mixing with his saliva. He got a lot more bigger, and he wanted to slide off, but Razor kept him down still. "Finish it."  
  
A completely different voice from before, more muffled. Shit.  
  
He licked the tip again, a bit more directly. Then just lightly sucked, and Razor's grip pulled him away.   
"Not too bad, for a no.2" He immediately pulled back, glaring at the man.   
 __  
This fucking piece of trash.  
  
"I'm going to fucking run you over the next time I see you!" He yelled, as Razor whipped his hand into, of all things, his new black jeans. _"You..."_  
  
Razor laughed, getting out of the car, as he glanced at the white stain on his jeans. He just...  
  
"It's been a good run, sweetheart!" He pulled him out of the car, throwing him onto the highway asphalt, "I do hope you know your way back," He looked right at him, _"Have fun!"_ Razor got into his car, driving away full speed, leaving only dust behind.  
  
...what just happened?  
It went through his head like a fog.  
He left him here, his new jeans covered in cum, in Mr. big shot mustang Razor’s cum to be exact, in a highway, four to six miles away from the city, in the middle of the night, after he was forced to give him a blowjob and got his ride jacked again.  
  
  
 _A few weeks later._  
  
 _C'mon. C'mon. Faster.  Quicker. C'mon._  
  
He shifted on the sixth gear, making another turn around the ring.  
  
 _No. A 150 won't do it. Faster. He needed faster._  
  
163\. 166. 168.  
  
As he reached over one hundred seventy, the engine threw a cloud of smoke out and it blew.  
"Fuck!" He yelled, kicking the wheel. "You piece of fucking shit! Why won't you run!" He got out of the car, slamming the door hard behind him.  
  
A metal sound, like a clink, he turned his head back to the car.   
  
Today it was so hot. He whipped the sweat off of his forehead, lifting up the hood. A gas of dust emerged into the air, as he cursed again, trying to figure out what's wrong.  
  
 _Shit._ How weird.   
  
He could still feel it crawling on his skin. On his back and shoulders, neck and chin. A smell of fresh black car paint and the uncomfortable back seat. And fuck, Razor's hand, not a random woman's. He really wanted to forget that, he thought it was the obvious option. To race. You race, your mind forgets these things. It was that easy...even the hookers, and damn, there were a lot of them. Because he thought the blowjob was his joke. A sick, bullshit joke.  
  
But then, he came back. Maybe a week after. He didn't expect this to repeat.  
  
"Get in the car, we're going to have a little talk, pal." That's what he says. A _'talk'_. 

  
Although Razor didn't take his supra, he did take Big Lou's wheels and Baron's. Why? He didn't care. Right now, this is the least thing he cared about. But Razor had the trigger on him-if he gets anywhere near any racing with his supra, Razor's going to rattle out his location to the police. And the cops will start pointing fingers. Jail's not an option when he's so close to Razor's no.1 title.

  
He got into the car, unwillingly, remembering last time. If he has to suck his dick again, he's going to make sure he disappears off to another town and finds the rivals by anonymous. He wanted to that, but Razor caught up. He's not _stupid._ Or at least not that stupid to not notice him disappearing off the streets.  
  
Something's different in the car. Was it the smell? There was an air freshener attached to the cooler, but nothing out of the ordinary.   
  
Except maybe the mood. He knew he was in the backseat for some reason, this time, paying very close attention to where he's driving. But the surroundings were dark, the street lights barely working. The road ahead was illuminated by the car's headlights.

  
Where is he driving? The road was familiar, maybe it's the same one?  
  
No cars. Just the dead silence.  
  
Then the car stopped.   
  
He rattled the handcuffs, but it was the same as last time, tightly locked. Razor got out of the car, opening the backdoor. Shit, what's he going to do?!  
  
He immediately lifted his legs up to kick him if he does anything, but Razor caught him by his ankle, chuckling, "You do know there's no way you're going to kick me, right?" He held both of his ankles now, but he kept struggling. 

  
"Let go!" He kicked him, his actual sneaker hitting Razor's left shoulder.  
  
He flinched, his expression turning from grinning into pissed in a second. Oh shit, is he going to get raped now?  
  
"You bastard." Razor climbed into the car, his knee digging between his thighs. This was a very dangerous situation.  
  
No, rather, he's dead now. He would rather get hit by a car now.  
  
"The fuck are you doing?!" Yelling, he felt him grind against his jeans.   
"What does it look like I'm doing, sweetheart?' His hand grabbed his chin, roughly pulling him up to his eye level, _"I'm gonna fuck you in the backseat."_  
  
"Don't you fucking-!" He really did try struggling out of this, he really fucking did. Razor's hand pressed against his mouth, keeping him from continuing his sentence.  
  
"Keep quiet, _blacklist boy."_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [One of us is going down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10937265) by [Charlievh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlievh/pseuds/Charlievh)




End file.
